Boy was waking his eyes slowly, as his eyelids lifted, the world swayed like a dream soaked in blood and mist. He saw her, standing there, head tilted downward, her long braided hair now unravelled, covering half her face. From her heart, a red aura pulsed and crawled like veins of light, slithering into her eyes. Then, her eyes opened. Her head turned up, those hairs went back side and a red halo are glowing at the end of her hairs, as it became threads itself. Twin red pupils, burning, alive, staring through the air as if they could see his soul.
From her fingers, blood dripped, thick and slow. Each drop hit the cloud beneath her feet with a soft sound, plop, plop, staining it darker. The cloud trembled, shifting its colour, white melting into crimson, as though the sky itself was bleeding. The guzheng on her hand shimmered faintly, its strings were torn, curling in the air like dead veins. One string fell in an arc and landed on the boy's hat. The hat rolled three times on the shaking cloud before stopping.
Her head lifted, and her gaze met his. Those eyes were not human anymore, they were the eyes of a hunter measuring its prey. She laughed, low and cracked, like music played from a broken instrument. "What a nice body? What a beautiful figure? What a… ahhh… little boy, who are you? Come to this sister."
He only stared, confused, breath uneven, not understanding her tone. The clouds binding his arms loosened and dropped him down. He hit the cloud hard, panting, eyes wide with fear and awe, the red world twisting around him.
She took his hat into the air with a single kick, the tip of her toe grazing its edge. The hat spun upward, slicing through the red mist, and landed gently on her nail. With a slow smile, she spun it five times, balancing it perfectly on the sharp tip before placing it atop her head. Her head tilted slightly, and a strange, deep sound came from her throat, half roar, half laughter.
Then her real body erupted in red light. The aura around her cracked open like fire spilling through broken glass, small threads were coming out from that red light for short time before it completely vanished. The boy stood frozen where he had fallen. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. She rolled her neck to the side, bones cracking like breaking branches, then stretched her fingers. The air around her trembled, rippling as if the world itself feared her awakening.
That aura—so thick, so heavy—it pressed against his chest, making him shiver without reason. His breath turned shallow.
He shouted, his voice trembling, "Miss… what happened? Why are you like that? I—I'm sorry for before, but can I ask… why is there red aura coming out from your body?"
She said nothing. Her lips curled into a twisted smile. Her eyes, those burning red pupils, were no longer human. They reflected madness, hunger, something ancient. She moved, slow and graceful, her steps light like a shadow floating across the sky.
Without warning, she snatched his sword from his hand. The blade shivered, reflecting red light. She spun it between her fingers, examining it like a child discovering a new toy. Then, with a soft hum, she raised the tip and placed it gently beneath his chin.
He flinched, breath caught. The cold wood kissed his skin. He was about to grab it, but she flicked the sword away, mocking him with her eyes. Then she twisted, and her figure blurred.
In the blink of an eye, she vanished.
Wind burst behind him, she appeared there, silent as death. Her hand clamped over his face, claws digging slightly into his cheeks. She grabbed his face by one hand other hand was inside of his pants. She said 'really, little boys are no fun at all… they have small things to play. Well, let me enjoy this small thing.' He screamed in pain as he squeezed his balls.
He gasped, stumbling back, wiping his lips, fear and confusion in his eyes. "You… what are you doing?!" he spat toward the sea below, the taste of iron on his tongue. "What a bad taste…"
She tilted her head, lifting his chin again with a single claw. Her laughter was sweet but hollow, echoing strangely in the air. "Little bastard," she whispered, voice like velvet and venom mixed together. Her eyes glowed brighter, and she licked her lips unconsciously. "Ahhh… little boy, you're so cute. Come… to sister's blossom."
He stepped back, shaking his head violently. "Go away!" he shouted, panic breaking his voice. He turned and ran across the cloud, but each step sank deeper, as though the mist itself was pulling him down.
She placed one leg forward, heel pressing into the cloud, and the entire sky trembled. Slowly, she followed. Each step she took left behind a red footprint, spreading like burning petals.
When she reached him, she grabbed his face again, forcing his gaze up to meet hers. Her voice turned cold, nearly reverent.
"Bad boy… too quick to accept your death. I thought you wanted to enjoy your last moment before I tear your skin off… use your bones to carve another heavenly instrument… your heart to make its pulse… your veins for its strings. Every melody will sing with your screams."
Her eyes rolled slightly upward, a look of madness crossing her face. She clasped her hands together as though in prayer, looking toward the red sky.
"Ahhh… what a beautiful sound… a perfect symphony… the music of dying hearts. Ahhh… haaa… haaa…"
She exhaled heavily, the sound like burning wind, her laughter echoing faintly in the crimson clouds. The sky rippled—something else was waking in her aura.
......
After some time, She stared at him, eyes half-closed, a small smile curling at the corners of her mouth. "Let's start," she said, voice soft but echoing like a whisper in a cave. She grabbed his sword and lunged. He twisted aside; the blade missed by an inch. Again she swung. Again he dodged—one, two, three, four, five times. Each clash sent sparks across the crimson mist. His feet slid on the shifting cloud; her laughter followed him like a shadow. He rolled to the far edge of the cloud, chest heaving, the red sky spinning above.
In the haze, something inside him snapped. Annoyed by her sudden change, he shouted, "Give me back my hat! That's mine!" She froze for a moment, then laughed, a sharp, cutting sound. "Your hat?" She tilted her head, eyes bright with mockery. "How boring."
She pressed her foot onto his head, pinning him to the cloud. "Weak boy," she said, voice low. "Grow your little brother first, before you raise your voice to me. You think these things are yours? This sword, this hat, these are nothing. They belong to the one who can keep them." She leaned closer, whispering, "And right now, that's me."
He pushed against her leg, rage burning in his chest. "You shut up! You took my things and now you tell me to stay quiet on it?"
Without even turning her face, she swung her leg and kicked him. The strike hit like a hammer. He flew backward, blood spilling from his mouth, the taste bitter and metallic.
"Shut up," she hissed, eyes narrowing. "That sword of yours, it couldn't even his own master. Garbage sword." She flicked her wrist and threw it toward him. The blade spun in the air; he caught it by instinct.
She smiled faintly, raising her fingers to her chin, tilting her head. "Hmm… what should I do with you? I have done enough play for today. Kill you first, then play? Or play until you beg me to kill you?"
Behind them, the sea began to swell. A wave as tall as a mountain rose up, casting its shadow across them. She didn't even look at it. She simply raised her hand and waved once.
From the sea, thousands of red threads burst upward, writhing like serpents. They coiled together, forming a giant hand that sliced the oncoming wave clean in half. The water froze mid-air, transforming into translucent silk.
The silk twisted, folding upon itself, forming a cube that hovered above the cloud. Slowly, the cube's six faces began to shape into human visages, each one more grotesque than the last. The first face wept endlessly, tears running down like rivers—Despair. The second snarled and bit its own lips—Wrath. The third laughed with a hollow echo—Greed. The fourth face whispered prayers that no one could hear—Faith. The fifth muttered broken words—Longing. And the sixth face… silent, expressionless—Vanity.
Each face turned in rhythm with her heartbeat, numbers glowing faintly across them, from one to six. The cube pulsed, spinning in the air, humming with power.
She looked at the boy, her eyes glowing brighter. "Red Silk Realm—Dice of the Damned," she said, her voice trembling like a song. "Let's see what fate chooses for you."
The cube spun faster, each face flickering between light and shadow. The air thickened, heavy with demonic intent. He gripped his sword tightly, heart pounding, as he watched the cube rotate. The faces whispered his name.
She said softly, dragging the word as if savouring it, "Oh… got a good thing now. Let's start."
Her voice echoed, faintly musical, each syllable trembling in the air like the final note of a dying instrument.
He was staring at her, eyes filled with both confusion and defiance. The red mist around them twisted like smoke from an unseen fire, and every pulse of her aura bent the clouds into spirals.
Before he could move, she appeared before him, faster than his sight. Her hand snatched the sword from his grip again, the blade whistling faintly as she turned it horizontally. She pressed it to his neck, so close the air trembled. Then she flicked it lightly, drawing a thin red line across his skin. Not deep enough to bleed, only to remind him how close death was.
He froze. His breath caught.
Her smile widened; her head tilted slightly. A devil's smile.
That expression, half joy, half cruelty, made the whole red sky look darker.
He clenched his fists, shouting hoarsely, "They are not garbage! You are garbage! You… garbage girl! Garbage old hag!"
Her eyes widened for a brief second, then narrowed. She grabbed his head with her free hand, fingers digging into his hair. The sword hovered near his lips. He acted on instinct—he bit down hard on her wrist.
Her body jolted. For a heartbeat, her grip loosened. He pulled away, ready to leap from the cloud.
But before he could even stretch his legs, the clouds around him twisted.
Hssst!—thin, red threads burst out, wrapping his arms, chest, and legs. He struggled, but the threads held him like molten steel, each movement only digging them deeper into his skin.
Her face darkened, but her smile returned, colder this time. She rubbed the bite mark on her wrist, crimson energy already knitting the skin back together. "So rude," she murmured. "But… I'll allow that one."
With a lazy flick of her hand, she threw his sword and hat toward him. They spun through the air, glinting. He caught them both, still panting, and as soon as he did, the strings holding him snapped apart.
He landed hard on the edge of the cloud, gripping the sword tightly. A strange, tingling sensation spread across his body—a vibration, almost electric. Then he saw her.
She was walking toward him slowly. Each step made the cloud beneath her feet turn darker, as though the sky itself feared her touch. The white turned red, then black, then began to spark with faint blue energy. Lightning crackled beneath her steps, crawling outward in tiny veins of light.
"Ahh…" she exhaled softly, her voice carrying a mocking sweetness, "look at you shaking."
He took a step back, and shouted as panic rose in his throat, "Ahh—!" He jumped, diving from the cloud without thinking.
The air screamed around him. He was falling fast.
Above, she stood on the edge, red aura flaring like a demonic halo. Her face—anger, thrill, hunger—all mixed together. A predator freed from its cage.
She raised her right hand. From each of her fingers, thin red threads burst outward—hundreds of them, hissing through the air like a swarm of bees.
Technique: Crimson Swarm Veins.
The sky filled with threads. They chased him downward, curving, weaving, bending like they had minds of their own.
He twisted midair, spinning, flapping his arms and legs like a desperate bird, but the swarm was faster. They caught him—first by the ankle, then the wrist, then his throat. The threads coiled around him and yanked him upward.
He opened his eyes again, and found himself face to face with her but he was in opposite direction.
She was standing on air. The threads formed a lattice beneath her feet, an invisible bridge made of blood and energy. Behind her, the clouds had gathered, shaped by her aura into two perfect rings—each one spinning at a slightly different angle, arcs glowing like molten halos.
Her voice came, soft, mocking. "Now… this looks better."
She lifted two fingers, gently hooking them under his chin, forcing him to look up at her. From above, new threads descended, coiling around his limbs.
The strings tightened—piercing his skin like burning needles. He was lifted, hanging in midair like a puppet. One thread held his hat; another wrapped around his sword.
Technique: Puppet of Crimson Fate.
He gasped as the strings pressed deeper, fusing with his skin, his veins glowing faintly red.
She leaned closer, her expression bored, annoyed more than angry. "Tell me," she said in a sing-song tone, "who is garbage?"
He wanted to shout, but when he opened his mouth, only a breath came out. The more he resisted, the deeper the threads pushed in. So he stayed still, glaring at her silently.
She smiled wider, eyes glimmering. "Oh, can't talk? That's better."
Her tone dropped to a whisper that crawled under his skin. "Don't want to jump in there, hmm? Let me show you something."
From nowhere, she pulled out a chunk of raw meat, dripping, twitching faintly, and tossed it toward the sea below.
"See below," she said.
He watched as the meat fell. It didn't even touch the water. The moment it neared the surface, it disintegrated, burned into nothingness, leaving behind only black smoke.
The boy stared blankly at the sight, then at her, a strange calm on his face. A faint, defiant smile touched his lips.
Her eyes narrowed, the threads around her trembling. "Still smiling?" she said softly, her voice sweet as poison. "Then let's see if you'll keep smiling..."
To be Continued...